


you know that I love you

by avalonjoan



Series: Henrietta: without magic, with medical careers [14]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Caretaking, Catholic Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, Found Family, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Paramedic Ronan Lynch, Prompt Fill, Storytelling, Vomiting, but nothing too descriptive, canon divergence regarding timing of their first kiss, so like, that's my tag but again he's still in EMT school in this, the babiest version of a paramedic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonjoan/pseuds/avalonjoan
Summary: “Got any stories to distract me with?”At this, Gansey grinned, although he still looked distant, sad. “Of course. A new one, or the usual?”“Usual,” Adam replied. “Hang on, I wanna lie down.” Slowly, slowly, he sat up, touching Ronan’s legs and Blue’s hands to indicate where he wanted them. He came to rest with his head on Ronan’s thigh and Blue’s fingers in his hair. Ronan tugged the towel off the rack behind him and folded it, nudging Adam to let him slide it under his hips to provide some cushion against the tiles. With her free hand, Blue tucked the blanket around his shoulders.Gansey sat near Blue, his back against the bathroom vanity, his legs spread with Blue between them. “Ready?” Adam nodded. “Depending on where you start the story, it was about Owen Glendower.”---A year after Adam struck his head and lost his hearing, the headaches come back. Blue, Gansey, and Ronan take care of him--and each other--in the ways that they can.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: Henrietta: without magic, with medical careers [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971451
Comments: 14
Kudos: 112





	you know that I love you

Ronan knew that he shouldn’t surprise Adam at work. It hadn’t gone well the last time he just showed up at the garage, with hurtful words getting thrown around by both sides, but that had been months ago, and they were different men then. Which wasn’t to say that everything was suddenly fair game just because they were together. It was so new, once a few weeks since their graduation day kiss, and their boundaries were still constantly in flux; they were both used to being angry and alone, so it was more than a little tricky to figure out how to be neither.

But then Ronan’s EMT class got out early and it  _ never _ got out early and he wasn’t going to get to see Adam for two days if he didn’t take advantage of this extra hour. He also knew that Adam probably hadn’t had enough to eat today because Adam never had enough to eat, so he swung by Boyd’s around seven with sandwiches and cold drinks. The bay doors were open, a few guys working on cars, but none of them were Adam. Twisting the plastic shopping bag and letting it spin, he cleared his throat when he got within earshot of the other mechanics. One of them looked over, expression neutral.

“Parrish here?” Ronan tried to look bored.

The man shook his head. “You just missed him.”

“His car’s outside.”

“Tony must have given him a ride. Said he wasn’t feeling well and left early.”

Shit.

“Thanks.” 

Back in his own car, Ronan drummed his fingers on the wheel for a few seconds before starting toward Saint Agnes. Adam didn’t just walk out on things. Junior year, he'd gotten a concussion (courtesy of Robert Parrish, of course) and had gradually gotten worse over the course of the next school day, but refused to leave even after the dizziness got so bad that he had thrown up behind a shrubbery while crossing the quad. And because he was a stubborn bastard, he still sat for their Latin exam, one hand gripping the edge of his desk so he wouldn't topple out of his chair.

He’d scored higher than Ronan, the fucker.

Ronan pulled into his usual parking space at the church--Christ, what kind of eighteen-year-old had a usual parking space at church?--and went up to Adam’s apartment. Before starting to knock, he tried the door and found it unlocked. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a little more force than necessary.

“Blue?” Adam’s voice was coming from deep in the apartment—well, as deep as a one-room apartment could be, which was to say: Adam’s voice had to have come from the bathroom, since Ronan couldn’t see him. 

“Why the fuck would Sargent be here?” He kicked off his boots and stuck the food in the fridge, heading to the closed bathroom door. When he got nearer, he realized that the door wasn’t actually closed, just pushed most of the way shut, and the lights were out inside, and Adam hadn’t answered his question. “You alright, man?” He paused, remembered what they were. “Adam?”

Adam replied by way of vomiting.

Oh. 

“I’m coming in.”

There was a sound of protest, then more retching; Ronan nudged the door open. It took a few seconds to adjust to the low light, just a spot of late afternoon sun coming through the small window. Once he figured out what he was seeing, he dropped to a crouch beside Adam, who was kneeling in front of the toilet, head resting on the rim of the seat. He was breathing heavily and shivering and his brow was creased in obvious pain and Ronan had  _ not _ been expecting any of this. Hesitantly, he put a hand on Adam’s back, his shirt damp with sweat and cold against Ronan’s palm.

“You sick?” 

Without sitting up, Adam shook his head, an almost imperceptibly small movement. “Headache,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Shit.” Ronan was at the unfortunate intersection of having enough knowledge to know that this was  _ bad _ , but not having enough knowledge to know what to do. His mind jumped to brain bleeds and meningitis and  _ fix this fix this fix this _ . “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No, you’re not.” With a shaky breath, Adam rose high enough on his knees to spit into the bowl. “And stop fucking talking.” As he moved to sit back on his heels, though, he listed to the side, his shoulder slamming against the bathtub. He shouted, a wordless sound, and squeezed his eyes tight, clutching the edge of the tub to keep from falling further.

Ronan’s arm shot out and caught Adam by his other arm, holding him up. Changing positions as quickly as his body would allow, he got behind Adam so that the other was between his legs, cradled against his chest, his own back against the wall. The angle wasn’t the most comfortable, but he could see Adam’s face, so he could put up with the inevitable back pain that would come from sitting like this. It was taking every bit of willpower not to say anything; Ronan chewed his lip. He tasted blood.

“You don’t have to do this,” Adam mumbled, “Blue will be here soon.”

Pressing his lips to the crown of Adam’s head, as if he could kiss it better, Ronan exhaled sharply through his nose, a near-silent laugh. “I’m your fucking boyfriend, Parrish, I’m not gonna leave you like this.” He was silent for a few seconds. “Why’s Sargent coming?”

“She knows what to do.”

“This happened before?” 

Adam nodded, then sucked a breath in through his teeth, grabbing Ronan’s thigh and digging his fingers into the muscle; he was so weak that the pain barely registered with Ronan. After a few seconds, he let go, but his whole body was still tense, shoulders up near his ears.

“Easy, there, easy,” Ronan murmured, putting a hand on Adam’s chest and urging him to lie back against him. “I’ve got you.”

“I really don’t feel good.”

“I can tell.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Adam repeated, more of a sigh this time.

There was no way he could convince Adam that yes, he deserved this, so Ronan didn’t bother trying. “Can I do anything to help you feel better?”

“Rub my neck, maybe? My shoulders?”

“Sure. You’re gonna need to sit up a little, though.”

Scooting away from Ronan, Adam leaned forward as he tried to get on his knees. The shift must have been too fast, though, and he stopped mid-movement, managing to choke out a swear as he barely made it back to the toilet in time to vomit. By this point, of course, there was nothing left to throw up, so he just went through the motions until it passed, then sat back on his heels. Not wanting a repeat of last time, Ronan put his hands on either side of Adam’s ribs, guiding him back into their previous position.

“Shit, I’m sorry, babe,” he muttered, “I didn’t think—”

Sniffling, Adam wiped at his eyes with a finger. “Did you just call me ‘babe’?”

Oops. “Did I?”

Adam made a sound that might have been a laugh. “‘s okay. Kinda cute.” He groped around until he found Ronan’s hand, starting to trace a fingertip over his skin. “I hope this doesn’t scare you away.”

“Ah, Parrish.” Ronan tried to keep his voice soft, but unfortunately, couldn’t stop himself from sounding a little pleased with himself. “I forget sometimes that you didn’t know me sophomore year. I was either comfortably drunk, throwing up, or had a headache for pretty much that whole year, so you’ll have to do better than this if you want to get rid of me.”

Nuzzling his cheek against Ronan’s shoulder, Adam mumbled, “I’d prefer if you stuck around, anyway.”

It wasn’t how Ronan pictured their evening together, but he’d gladly accept hearing Adam say sweet things like that. Rubbing circles on Adam’s chest with one hand and smoothing his hair with the other, he hummed an old tune, something his mother used to sing, low and slow, hoping to provide some sort of comfort. Adam sighed and leaned heavily into Ronan’s arms.

Time didn’t really exist in the darkening bathroom, so Ronan had no idea how long they’d been there when the apartment door opened. He heard footsteps, more that could just be Blue’s, and a gentle knock at the door. “Adam?”

Adam made a sound of affirmation and the door opened, revealing Blue with Gansey behind her. She dropped to her knees, her skirt fanning out around her, and put her palm on Adam’s cheek. Wordlessly, she leaned over and kissed his forehead. After letting her lips rest there for a few long seconds, she whispered against his skin, voice lilting and soft. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting, darlin’.”

_ Do you love me? _

Ronan’s eyes shot up to look at Gansey, clearly just as surprised as he was. When Blue sat back, Ronan cracked a smile, because at the end of the day, he was still a bastard. “Don’t I get a kiss too?”

She rolled her eyes, unzipping her bag and peering inside. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response, but if you want to, Gansey, by all means, do.” Setting a thermos on the floor and unscrewing the lid, she turned back to Adam. “So, I’ve got Jimi’s tea, but it needs to cool a little first.” Reaching in again, she pulled out a blister pack of pills. “In the meantime, though,” she smiled, although Ronan wasn’t positive that Adam’s eyes were open to see it, “Mr. Gray overheard us talking and sent some nausea medication.”

“He offered some oxycodone as well, which we declined,” Gansey added from where he still stood in the doorway, looking vaguely disapproving of the matter.

Even after clearing his throat, Adam’s voice still had the raw sound of someone who’d thrown up too many times. “Why does he have all this?” 

Blue shrugged, peeling the backing off one of the bubbles and dumping a pill into her palm. “Who knows?”

It had been a year since Maura started dating the man, and no one (except perhaps, probably, Maura) had any clue what he actually did. Ronan’s theory was that he was a hit man, mainly because it was a cool career (would one really call it a career?) and the idea of a social worker dating a hit man was absolutely hilarious. Blue thought he was some sort of smuggler. Adam liked to think he was a vigilante. Gansey didn’t care much for speculation about Mr. Gray’s life, preferring to get into hours-long discussions with him about parts of history that Ronan couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. 

“Tell him thank you for me.” Adam held out his hand toward Blue, but she pushed it back toward his lap.

“You’re shaking something awful—let me do it.” She held out the pill and placed it in Adam’s mouth. “You’re supposed to let it sit under your tongue and let it dissolve. He says it works pretty fast.”

Adam didn’t reply, but Ronan could feel his jaw moving slightly as he pushed the pill around. Going back into her bag, Blue took out a blanket and spread it over Adam, then ran a washcloth under the faucet and wrung it out. Pressing the cloth to Adam’s forehead, she dabbed it down the side of his neck and asked so, so softly, “Did something happen?”

The room was quiet, save for the squish of wet fabric moving against skin. Finally, Adam mumbled, “The weather.” No one spoke, and he went on. “It just...felt the same.”

“It’s been about a year.” Blue pushed some hair off Adam’s forehead.

“I know. I tried not to think too much about it, but...you know.” He shrugged.

Sliding his hand under the blanket, Ronan felt around until he found Adam’s fingers, brushing his own against them. Adam linked a finger around one of Ronan’s; Ronan kissed Adam’s head. There wasn’t anything he could say.

Blue shifted positions so that she was half-sitting on the floor instead of fully kneeling. “This wasn’t your fault,” she said, setting the washcloth on the tile, then resting her hand against his cheek once more. “None of it.”

“I—” Adam swallowed, squeezing Ronan’s finger. “I know.” Then, with a laugh that sounded more like a cough, added, “Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Blue nodded. “Think you can handle some tea? We’ve also got, like, actual painkillers, if you want.”

“Yeah. Just the tea, for now.” He tilted his head toward Ronan. “You showed up a few minutes after I tried to take some ibuprofen, so, you saw how that went.”

Blue inched a little closer to Adam and picked up the thermos. She held it up, then paused, switched hands, made a face, and sat it back down on the floor. “I don’t think the angles are gonna work like this. Ronan?”

“Uh.” Eyes wide, he realized what she was asking him to do, and  _ fuck _ , this was somehow more intimate--a different kind of intimate--than anything he and Adam had done. “Yeah, sure.” Shifting Adam’s position just a little, he reached out and took the thermos, then so, so carefully, held it to Adam’s lips and tilted it back. Steam spiraled toward him; it smelled like Christmas, but also kind of like dirt. Adam took a few sips, shaking his head when he was finished. Ronan set the container down. “What’s in that, anyway?”

Ticking each one off on her fingers, Blue listed, “Mint, feverfew, rosemary…ginger, mabe?”

“Definitely ginger,” Adam said softly.

“Does it work?”

Adam shrugged. “Maybe? Makes my mouth not taste disgusting, at least.” 

“Let me know when you’re ready for more.”

“‘m gonna wait a little. I really don’t want to throw up again.” Adam sounded so goddamn miserable; Ronan wanted to kiss him, gross mouth and all. “Gansey?” 

Gansey had been mostly silent since they arrived, guarding the doorway as if the problem were a threat from outside. He’d been gazing straight ahead since the initial eye contact with Ronan after Blue kissed Adam’s head. When Adam said his name, he was visibly startled, jumping slightly with a sharp inhale. “Hm?”

“Got any stories to distract me with?”

At this, Gansey grinned, although he still looked distant, sad. “Of course. A new one, or the usual?”

“Usual,” Adam replied. “Hang on, I wanna lie down.” Slowly, slowly, he sat up, touching Ronan’s legs and Blue’s hands to indicate where he wanted them. He came to rest with his head on Ronan’s thigh and Blue’s fingers in his hair. Ronan tugged the towel off the rack behind him and folded it, nudging Adam to let him slide it under his hips to provide some cushion against the tiles. With her free hand, Blue tucked the blanket around his shoulders. 

Gansey sat near Blue, his back against the bathroom vanity, his legs spread with Blue between them. “Ready?” Adam nodded. “Depending on where you start the story, it was about Owen Glendower.”

As Gansey told the story that he, and therefore all of them, had committed to memory, Ronan felt Adam relax but couldn’t manage the same for himself. God, he was tired. Gansey talked of Welsh fields and kings and poets, but Ronan couldn’t focus on his voice, couldn’t focus on anything but the rise and fall of Adam's chest.

“He’s asleep,” Blue whispered when Gansey was finished, resting her hand in her lap after one final run through Adam’s hair.

Ronan had figured as much when Adam stopped shifting positions and making small sounds of discomfort. “Finally.”

Blue looked...drained. Not like she was going to fall asleep, just—like the whole evening had taken all her energy. Ronan didn’t want to add anything to that, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking, from asking— 

“He hid this for a whole year.”

In any other circumstance, they probably would have gotten into a fight about not everything being about Ronan and about what it means to be friends with someone, but not tonight. Blue just shook her head.

“They didn’t start right after it happened--a few weeks, maybe? Got real bad around the trial, but if he’s had any like this since then, he hasn’t told me.” As if sensing Ronan’s next question, she went on, “He was at my house when he had the first one like this, and everyone kinda did their thing.” She waved a hand at everything that had come out of her bag. “So I knew what to do, and he’d call me when he felt things starting.”

To be honest, that was already a dramatic change from the Adam that Ronan had first met, who never would have asked for help at all. “Why did it happen now, though? Like, shouldn’t he see a neurologist or something?”

With a shrug, Blue replied, “Probably, but good luck getting him to do that. I’m not like, shocked that this happened, though. It was right around this time last year that...”

“The fifteenth,” Ronan said, a breathy exhale. 

“The body remembers,” Gansey added softly.

Ronan’s throat was tight. “His body’s got a lot to remember.”

Blue looked at Adam sadly, lovingly, and Ronan didn’t mind.

“I guess we’ll head out, then, if you’re okay staying with him,” she said after a while.

“I’ll be fine.” Ronan’s chest ached, right under where Adam’s head lay. “Thank you for looking after him.”

After peering into her bag, Blue zipped it up and stood, wincing a little as she uncurled from where she’d been kneeling for what had to be hours. “The worst should be over, but call if you want us to come back,” she offered, stepping around Gansey and touching his shoulder as she left the bathroom. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

Gansey nodded, standing as well. “Call if you need anything,” he reiterated as Blue’s footfalls faded down the stairs, “Anything at all.”

“Thanks.” 

Coming a step closer, Gansey pressed three fingers to his lips, then to Ronan’s cheek. It was entirely unexpected, and Ronan felt strangely watched, even though Adam was asleep and Blue had already left. Gansey’s fingers were soft, his touch light, and Ronan had absolutely no idea why he was doing this, but he did know that this was exactly what he needed. 

“Take care of yourself.” Lifting his hand away, Gansey gave a small, knowing smile, then turned and left, pulling the bathroom door mostly closed behind him. As soon as Ronan heard the apartment door click shut, he tilted his head back against the wall and stared into the darkness.

_ Do you love me?  _

It would have been easy to sit there for the entire night, leaning against the tub, the wall hard against his spine, legs feeling like they didn’t quite belong to him, just running those few seconds over his head. But Adam shifted his shoulders and started flailing one arm around, groping at Ronan’s leg, then his chest. At first Ronan thought he was having a nightmare, or a seizure, or something else awful, but then Adam mumbled, “Where’s your hand?”

“Right here,” Ronan said, taking Adam’s hand into his own, running his thumb over the back of it. “Right here. Go back to sleep, babe.” He felt Adam’s face move against his leg: a smile, hopefully.

The room was quiet, save for their breathing. Time still didn’t exist; it could be ten or two, any time between sundown and sunrise, and Ronan wouldn’t know the difference.

“He’s lucky to have you.” Adam’s voice was barely a whisper.

Ronan’s heart stopped. “What?”

“I used to worry you’d choose him, you know.” Ronan felt Adam’s neck move as he swallowed; his own mouth was too dry to even open. “Not anymore, of course.”

There weren’t words in English for him and Gansey, and for once, Latin was failing him. He had a spark of a memory about Biblical Greek, with all its words for love, but he hadn't paid enough attention to Father Mulligan's homily; Ronan hadn't thought it was meant for him.

“I can feel you worrying.” Adam pulled Ronan’s hand to his mouth, letting his lips brush his fingers as he went on, “Please don’t.”

“I’ll try.”

Ronan combed his fingers through Adam’s hair. He still felt unsteady, but Adam’s breath on the back of his hand was enough to hold him still.  
  


* * *

  
Morning came, and Ronan wasn’t sure if it was the sun that woke him or the pain running from his hips to the base of his skull. It certainly wasn’t Adam who woke him; the other was still breathing evenly, body relaxed, eyes closed. Ronan thanked God for that small grace.

But the sun moved through the tiny window and eventually passed over Adam’s face. Ronan couldn’t shield him from all of it, and he brought a hand to his eyes, blinking slowly. He was still pale, sickly looking, but better.

“Morning, honey,” Ronan said, keeping his voice soft.

Adam smiled, sleepy eyes open just enough to look up at him. “You’re just pullin’ out all the pet names, aren’t you?”

“Just trying them out while you’re too tired to make fun of me.”

“Gonna take a little getting used to. Hearing you say it at all ’s kinda funny. Big bad Ronan Lynch.” He chuckled, still sounding half-asleep as he went on, “Hearin’ it about me ’s new, too.”

Ronan twirled a few strands of Adam’s hair around his index finger. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better. I’ll probably take some Tylenol and go back to sleep, though.”

“Maybe eat something? I think Blue left a few things in the kitchen.”

Adam nodded. “I can probably handle a little.”

“And uh—maybe move to your bed?” Adam made a soft grumbling sound. “I can’t feel my legs, Parrish.”

With a beleaguered sigh, Adam slowly sat up, pausing before each movement. “I suppose.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll help you up.”

“I’m okay.” Before Ronan could stop him, Adam was pushing himself to his feet, using the lid of the toilet and then the edge of the sink for support. He took a few deep breaths, looked down at Ronan with what was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile, and started toward the other room, steps slow and careful. The pins and needles sensation had taken full hold of Ronan’s lower body, but he wasn’t about to let Adam out of his sight, so, hissing through the discomfort, Ronan stood and followed him. He found Adam standing in front of the open refrigerator, brows knit. “Did you bring dinner last night?”

Ronan blushed, just a little. “I, uh, got out of class early and went by the garage.” He rubbed the back of his head. “There’s tuna and Italian.”

“You’re sweet. A little too adventurous for me right now, but I’ll have it once my stomach’s settled.” He paused. “Thank you.”

Coming up behind Adam, Ronan put his arms around him, chin resting on Adam’s right shoulder. “Why don’t you go lie down and I’ll bring you something, okay?”

Adam nodded, allowing Ronan to direct him toward the bed and lowering himself onto the mattress. Ronan reheated the tea from the night before (which smelled a little less like Christmas now and a lot more like dirt) and set it on the plastic crate next to the bed, along with a cup of plain water and a sleeve of crackers. Before joining Adam, Ronan went back to the bathroom and retrieved the blanket, putting it over Adam’s lap and sitting beside him, their backs to the wall. They were quiet for a few minutes, Adam testing the waters of food and drink, and Ronan trying to push a sudden, loud idea out of his head until he couldn’t and--

“I want you to stay at the Barns.”

Adam choked out a laugh, covering his mouth with a hand as he spoke around a bite of cracker. “No offense, I think your driving would make me puke right now.”

Hesitantly, Ronan shook his head and went on. “Not—not now. I mean, it could be now, but I’d prefer you not throw up in my car. I mean—” He stopped, and Adam cocked his head to the side.

“You mean what?”

“I mean—” If this thought had given him any warning, Ronan might have had time to word it in a way that Adam would tolerate, but no, the idea had struck him like a goddamn car crash. Like a punch. He took a deep breath. “I mean, I want you to come live there.”

Adam didn’t say anything. Fuck.

“It’s not like—it doesn’t have to mean that you’re ‘moving in with me.’” Ronan made air quotes around the phrase, then started fidgeting with the blanket, fingers twisting the edge. “Just that you could live there. You could have your own space—Matthew’s room, if you wanted—and—I just don’t want you hurting like this all alone, and—” This was not going as smoothly as he’d hoped.

Still, Adam didn’t say anything, and he was going to ask Ronan to leave, because Ronan was too eager and moving too fast because he didn’t know how to stop himself.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, “Forget I said anything.”

Adam changed positions, getting on his knees and facing Ronan head-on. He looked sick and exhausted and...happy? “If I want it to be, um, moving in with you...could it be?”

Ronan didn’t breathe. Finally, chest burning, he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it could fucking be that.”

Taking Ronan’s hand, Adam lay down, head pressed to the side of Ronan’s thigh. He kissed Ronan’s scarred knuckles, then brought their linked hands to his chest.

_ Do you love me?  
  
_

* * *

  
That day, Adam slept.

The next day, he went with Ronan to retrieve his car from Boyd’s and put everything he owned inside.

The third day, he handed in his keys at the church office and drove to Singer’s Falls.

By the end of the week, he’d found places at the Barns for all his belongings: his enormous plant, his tarot deck, his heart.

The headaches never came back.

_ Yes. _

_ Yes.  _

_ Yes. _

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Dearest thanks for DubiousSparrow and damn_im_gay for the migraine/headache prompt, and purpletraitor for the hot tip on herbal medicine.
> 
> 2) Is it maybe a little magical that Adam letting himself fit into Ronan's life at the Barns is what fixes his post-traumatic headaches? yes. do I care? not at all. bodies are weird and we all need a little magic sometimes.
> 
> 3) so, fun fact, i used to be Catholic and the things I remember are weird and specific, and I'm going to explain some background stuff bc it's definitely not common knowledge. Basically, at brunch the day after Jesus' resurrection, he asks Peter three times "Do you love me?" and Peter replies, "You know I love you" and in the English translation, it's just that exchange x 3. But in Greek, there are different words for love. the first two times Jesus uses 'agape', which is a selfless/charitable/unconditional love, and Peter replies with 'philia' which is a friendly/brotherly love. But the third time, Jesus and Peter both use philia. And as with like, all scripture stuff, there's a lot of discourse, but it can be seen as Jesus asking 'do you love me as a god and as a man' or as resigning himself to peter not quite being on the right level yet. Anyway, the title of this was originally "philia, storge, agape" but I was like...stories should make sense without needing an aggressive amount of biblical greek knowledge, hence the change.
> 
> 4) find me on tumblr at the same username! Always looking for ideas to add to the constantly-simmering fanfiction stew I've got going on.


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